


Confessions

by 0oMooncalfo0



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, POV First Person, Past Relationship(s), Present Tense, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 06:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2299529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0oMooncalfo0/pseuds/0oMooncalfo0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time she says 'I love you', he doesn't say it back. Locke contemplates the past, the present, and the things he wishes he could have in the latter. A free-typing experiment suggested by a friend of mine to help me with my troubles regarding Locke's character.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions

“I love you.”

She says it first, not I.

The words come one night as she sees me off to bed in our tiny Jidooran apartment. Normally, she would follow me, and we would lie together in pleasant, undemanding silence until slumber came to claim us both. But not tonight. Tonight, she says she must stay up late for something or other—some aria she must have learned, or some pants role that needs polishing. I don’t question. I’ve never known the first thing about music and I don’t intend to pretend otherwise.

But tonight, she stands in the doorway, her hand upon the lamp, and from her lips tumble those words both beautiful and terrifying.

‘I love you.’

 Her voice is like a whisper, so sweet and feminine. She has come a long way since the curt, regimented general I had first met that night in South Figaro’s dungeon. There is a slight flush about her cheeks as she breathes her vow, and I think to myself how far she has come… she would never have shown such vulnerability before. But her eyes, her eyes are dead serious. I can see it in the way they twinkle. And she is young, and sheltered. I know full well that she had been raised these 20-some years in a restricted and practical fashion. A military upbringing. She was meant, after all, to be one of the Empire’s greatest Knights. Certainly, one didn’t get to be a high ranking officer in the army at the tender age of 19 by slacking off or allowing themselves distractions. Distractions such as… ‘fraternizing’. She’s never been romanced before, I know. Never had a relationship of any kind… Living and fighting and working alongside men her entire life, she has never pursued one—has never felt a little crush or a domestic daydream. I know because she told me.

But, all the same. When she looks me in the eye, when she tells me she loves me, I know without a doubt that she means every syllable.

She does. She means it. And I understand then where this path will lead if I choose to follow it. She’ll be that one for me— _the_ one. The one I’ve dreamed and whined and cursed about. The person in my life that I have pined and lamented for ever since the first candidate… Anyway. I don’t want to be alone—I really don’t. And that’s why I started this adventure. That’s why I came back for her, why I followed her to Jidoor, why we’re living here together in this outer-ring complex. I want… this to work. I want it more than anything!

But… the first time she tells me she loves me, I don’t say it back.

I can’t.

I can’t because it would be a lie—though bile rises sour in my throat at the thought. But, it would be. It would be a lie. I… like Celes very much. Really! I do! I like her very _very_ much. In a thoroughly romantic way, even! I think we have a future together, maybe, if things keep going all right. Probably. I want to say ‘probably’. I’m going to say ‘probably’. Celes is smart; she’s brave; she’s beautiful. She has the voice of an angel. When I first saw her out of her battle attire, that night at the opera house, she set my heart aflutter—and that was _not_ a thing to be taken lightly! That look in her eyes ( _So tender and wise…_ ) dusted the cobwebs from my lonely soul that I’d even realized had settled. It was genuine, it was real, and that rush of feeling means there must be something there, something to this relationship of ours. It must mean that I have the potential to love her too. Gods! Please say I do! Because I want to… I want to so damn badly that the longing all but rips my heart to shreds.

I think someday I will love her. Fuck, I _pray_ that I do! But… on that first night… I couldn’t. I couldn’t say I loved her just yet. So I said nothing. I mumbled in reply, my back to her, and pretended that sleep was already claiming me. I didn’t expect it to work. My heart beat so hard in my chest with guilt and with cold terror…  I was certain she must have heard it betraying me even from where she stood.

But…no. She smiled—I could feel her smile even if I couldn’t see it. I always can. And she turned off the lights and shut the door. The sounds of sweet music that wafted up the hallway some few minutes later told me that she had indeed gone to go practice. Happily, contentedly. And I was alone there. In the dark. Crying into my pillowcase.

I cried because there was nothing more in the world that I wanted to hear her say but those three words: ‘I love you’. And yet…

And yet…

When Celes agreed to move in with me, my heart had swelled with joy. I’d been pursuing her, there was no point in denying that. I… didn’t want to be lonely anymore. I felt something for her. And, now, the thought that she felt it in return—! Oh, but I’d thought! I’d thought… that it would be enough. That everything would simply fall into place. That’s what had happened before. With Rachael… Gods. Rachael…

We’d been friends as long as I could remember. There was never a time, in my entire memory, that we were anything but comfortable together. We knew each other’s dreams and each other’s fears. We both knew what made the other happy or sad. When our relationship had changed from friendship to love… well… it had seemed natural. It was seamless. Sure, there had been some awkward spots—learning what a kiss was, for instance. A _real_ kiss, anyway. But we hadn’t had to try very hard. Passion—passion and instinct and something that was more powerful even than the greatest of spells—had swept over us almost immediately. We had just been… right. Like it was destiny. And I loved her so much that even today, the thought brings bitter tears to my eyes before I can bite them back.

She’s gone now. And I know that.

Dammit, do I know that!

In fact, she’d been gone even before that day in the wake of Phoenix Cave, though I’d been loath to admit it at the time. I’d known… I’d known the day I had first heard of the Imperial assault on Kohlingen. I’d known. I’d known ever since I stood there over her broken body. I’d known there was no shred of life left in her, even if her flesh hadn’t yet figured that out. I’d known she’d never get better—never awaken. Hell, it was my own damn fault she was still… ‘alive’. I was the one that had pleaded. I was the one that had begged them to ‘save’ her, even though I’d known it was futile. I could feel it in my soul. But… it’s so hard to take a promise ring off your finger—especially when it’s been there so long that the skin beneath it is a thin, white tan line. When the metal has almost begun to meld with your flesh. And it’s impossible to walk away, to truly give up and move on with your life when…when a memento still remains. I feel awful calling the poor girl that, but… that’s what her comatose body was to me, really. A memento. A terrible reminder that could do not but instill false hope within my heart. Even if her sweet spirit was gone forever, even if her mind is fogged with perpetual slumber, when the love of your life still lies breathing on a bed... It’s hard. It’s impossible. Letting go, that is. Giving up. Moving on. For, one cannot truly mourn if there is even a shred of hope. The shred doesn’t have to be realistic. It doesn’t have to bear any weight. It only has to be enough to torment…

When I’d met Celes, I hadn’t really thought I’d be able to find the legendary Phoenix Stone. I hadn’t really thought I’d see Rachel again. Too many years had gone by already, and my broken heart was already long numb from its weeping. When I’d met her… when I’d pursued her… I meant it. I still do. I still _want_ this!

But things with Celes aren’t so easy. And, dammit! I want them to be! I _want_ to simply fall head over heels in love again! I DO! I want it to be easy and natural, I want our bodies to simply find their way to each other and interlock until there is no space for air between us. I want to bask in her presence and not even realize time has passed in the outside world. I really and truly do!

But that isn’t how it works.

At least… not for me.

It’s difficult and awkward at times. Sometimes I feel I don’t know what to say and just sit there in uncomfortable silence. Though Celes, bless her, doesn’t seem to notice. Why would she? She’s never known that there could be anything… better… When we’re together, I feel drained, as if I’m trying too hard. I probably am. When she leaves, I feel relieved because I can let the mask fall. I wasn’t even aware that there was a mask still to be worn.

The second time she tells me she loves me, I say I love her too, even though the words feel dead on my lips.

But, I have no choice. This time, I can’t pretend not to have heard her. She knows. And to have heard her and not respond… I can’t hurt her like that. So I speak words that I do not yet mean and hope silently to myself that they will soon be true.

Maybe… if I say it enough times…

I like the person I am with Celes—that much, I can be sure of. I no longer wish to have Rachael back, or that I could somehow change the past… I would change myself as well, and I don’t want that. I’m stronger now, in the loss of her. Stronger, wiser. I’m pleased with the person I’ve become, and frown at the boy I had once been. And Celes only makes me grow more with every passing day. And I love that about her. Really! I do! I love that I’ve met her, that I’m trying out this awkward, messy journey with her! I really am glad! I’d never ask things to change! But… I do want it to be easier. Like magic. Like… destiny.

Like before.

Sometimes I think things will get better once we become more…intimate. A part of me still flushes even at the thought, but the rest of me is genuine. The rest of me is…ready, I suppose. Sexuality is a magical thing that can gloss over a lot of awkward moments and broken boundaries. It instills a new level of fondness, I know, and I pray that somehow it will make everything better. Not that I… that Rachel and I… not that the two of us got _that_ far into such things… I mean…

Ugh. I’m not like Edgar. There. That… yeah.

But I’m not a stranger either. To… sexual topics. I’d been engaged once, after all. There were things I’d… sampled. There were things I’d been looking forward to. Things I’m still looking forward to now… When Celes touches me, sometimes, it sets my soul on fire. When her hands brush my chest, it makes parts of me tighten with anticipation in a way I’d almost forgotten they could. She embraces me, caresses me, tries to figure out this ‘cuddling’ concept, and  more often than not, I find myself being excused for a rather long ‘bathroom break’ before the night is done. Thank god she doesn’t seem to notice… Gods, but I want her to _really_ touch me, to want me. And I think that someday… she will. Perhaps that will be what ultimately solidifies this bond between us. Something tells me, in the back of my mind, that it could well be the case.

Ugh. But Celes isn’t there yet, and I can’t rush her. Like I said, she’s never done this before. And it’s not fair for me to push all my issues onto her. Celes has her own problems. Her own problems that she’s moving on with—more gracefully than I! So I take it slow. And hope. And pray. It’s all I can do.

She keeps saying those words: ‘I love you’. And I have to keep responding. Each time I feel slightly less guilty, though there is only a little more depth of feeling. I fear that, maybe, it has become routine. When she leaves, however, shame consumes me, and I fall to my knees with the frustration of it all. I like her. I really, _really_ like her! But…

“I don’t _love_ her …”

It’s months later when I first say these words out loud, in a dimly-lit bar somewhere on the outskirts of Jidoor. It’s not my first choice of venues these days, but it’s the nearest that _certain of us_ dare come to the inner city. My two companions shuffle in their seats each bristling in their own way to my confession. I don’t bother explaining myself further. The weight in the room does it for me. And I know the pair of them are not fools… they’ve been around the block, and they’ll understand me even if they cannot bring themselves to pity…

Setzer is the first one who dares to breathe—although, admittedly, he does so by taking a long drag from his pipe. Most of me doesn’t want to know what he’s smoking. A part of me does. The part that shares his same streak of self-destruction. Gods, I want to be self-destructive. Doubtless, it’s something that would _not_ be approved of back in the humble village where he now docks his ship. He holds his breath for a moment, and the silence that settles across the table could be cut with a knife. Then, after far too long, he releases it again in a mist of sweet-smelling vapor.

“I think we’re going to need some stronger shit…” the pilot comments towards our bottle of cheap wine and my half-finished ale. None of us say anything, though the heaviness in the air drags tears to the corners of my eyes. Wordlessly, Setzer sets down his pipe and his pure-white figure vanishes at once into the smoky atmosphere that surrounds us. And I realize that my words are probably a knife to his heart (like the man needs any more scars…). Edgar, for his part, downs the rest of the wine and I am left staring dismally at the table. I know this isn’t fair. This isn’t fair of me to burden the two of them with my pathetic issues, but I can’t help it. Setzer returns with a very dusty bottle of brandy that is only a few years our junior. His eyes aren’t cold, but they aren’t sparkling either. Though, thank the gods, he doesn’t seem to be holding my confession against me as he dishes out glasses of amber liquid. He takes his first as a shot, shakes off the burn, and swiftly pours another to nurse.

Edgar rolls his eyes, sipping at his own glass in a proper gentlemanly fashion, even if the rest of him looks terribly tired and worn. “Don’t you have to fly back to Mobliz tonight…?” He asks quietly, eyeing Setzer from across the table as the man reheats his pipe over a candle. But Setzer merely snorts and waves him away with a flick of the wrist.

“What’s life without a little high-stakes?” he asks whimsically, though there’s a flash of shadow across his face.

The two locked gaze for a moment, and I am seemingly forgotten—thank the gods. Words from a time so very long ago echoed briefly through my mind as I watch the men’s stand-off. _‘We found him in a Kohlingish bar, half-dead in his drunkenness.’_ It was something I’d remembered Edgar saying back in the days of Ruin, when I’d first been re-recruited onto the _Falcon_. My stomach ties itself in knots at the thought. I’m hurting them. I’m hurting my two best friends, and I know it… but I can’t keep all this inside me any longer.

Setzer breaks the silence first, with a blow that I know already is going to end all Edgar’s comments of disapproval: “Besides,” he hisses, dropping his poker face for one terrifying moment, “what does it matter? For people of my _ethnicity_ … isn’t drunkenness said to be the default state of being? And sobriety, the rarity?”

He then spits something at Edgar in the Old Cesarean that I don’t quite catch, but it’s enough to make the young king’s Jaw tighten and his eyes dart to the side. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, stomach suddenly churning with tension. I swear I can feel the eyes of the room upon us; the sounds of the bar die down as if to listen. Fuck. My heart begins to flutter in fear, and I hope it’s just my imagination. This is still Jidoor, after all—the dingy, lower-middle-class outskirts of Jidoor, but still Jidoor. And if we continue this conversation here… someone was going to get lynched. And it would be all my fault… I started this. My eyes fly back to Edgar, and I silently beg him to hold his tongue. Because Setzer doesn’t look like he was kidding about those ‘high stakes’… and I know from years of flying with him that he’s taken crazier gambles than this….

_(Self-destructive…)_

But Edgar doesn’t say anything more—thank god—and Setzer, victorious, merely goes back to smoking his pipe with a smile.

“So,” he calls over to me, blowing smoke puffs over his shoulder, “Out with it, kid. Spill your soul…”

Edgar sighs, but nods as well, encouragingly. For that, I am thankful. I’m thankful for both my friends, really. I know this isn’t fair to either one of them. They’ve both lost the same way I have. Setzer had lost Daryl, his fiancé, before we’d even met him. And Edgar… god. Guinevere. The slaughter… He’d lost the romantic lottery right from the starting gate. And they’d each pursued Celes as well, to varying levels of seriousness. I know in my heart either man would give up staggering amounts to be where I am right now… Edgar would hand over half his kingdom for the chance at love again. I’m pretty sure Setzer would turn in his good luck and retire… And what am I doing but complaining? Complaining when I should be happy… Dammit, why am I not happy?

But they hear me out. And I cry. And they comment. And I go home that night, feeling not yet well, but on the road to recovery, perhaps. The house is dark when I arrive, but Celes isn’t in bed. She must still be out at rehearsal… I sigh, and collapse into the sheets, not caring if girlish tear-stains still run down my cheeks. My head is throbbing lightly with the kiss of far too much alcohol, and the room is still spinning even with my eyes tightly shut. I wish I was the kind to get sick on himself. I wish I could wretch and bawl and then busy myself half the night with cleaning up. It would make me feel better, actually. But that’s not who I am. I’m not like Setzer, who can blow all his cares away on a single, risky adrenaline rush. And I’m not even like Edgar, who can sit silently all day and then take out his troubles in the embrace of some nameless young lady. I don’t let my problems out. Not in any capacity. Rather, I keep them all inside of me where they can stew and fester. And so, I drift off lazily into sleep, my heart pounding hollowly in my ears…

I think of Celes, and Setzer, and Edgar, and the loves lost and gained among us all. And, as slumber claims me, I whisper one silent prayer to any god who will hear me:

‘Please, dear _god_ , make me love her back!’

Someday… I think that I will.

 

* * *

 

 AN: I’ve been having a really hard time writing from Locke’s point of view in my novelization—a fact that has all but put the project at a dead stop for the time being. A friend of mine suggested that, perhaps I‘m struggling to relate to Locke because he’s too, well, relatable and my mind is a bit absorbed in its tendencies for repression. So, being a psych major, she suggested I do a little free-typing and try to relate to Locke a bit. And therefore, I did. I won’t say which parts of this relate to my own life and which do not, because that ultimately does not matter. However, in the end, it turned into a rather nice character study—not only for Locke, but for Edgar and Setzer as well, to lesser extents, and I thought it was therefore worth posting even if I’m not quite sure whether or not I want to go in this direction with Locke’s characterization. I think, ultimately, I’d rather have him be a bit happier about his whole situation. :P But I did my best to make it compliant with the headcanon of Desert Crowns.

Setzer’s smoking opium if anyone cares, so it’s no wonder Edgar doesn’t approve of mixing his downers before he has to fly home. And Celes is working for the opera house after the war if that isn’t apparent. The comment about Setzer’s ethnicity is something I added to tie into Crowns a bit better, but I won’t make it explicit here in case there’s anyone who doesn’t want the spoiler. So…there you have it. Since this was mostly free-typing, I would greatly appreciate feedback. This is essentially me ‘in the raw’, after all. Thanks for reading!


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